


i have a very particular set of kinks

by welcometothesinbin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Age Play, BDSM, Consensual Non-Consent, Dom/sub, Feminization, Ficlet Collection, Genderplay, Multi, Other, Other: See Story Notes, POV Alternating, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape, Rape Fantasy, Smut Collection, porn collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27163994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcometothesinbin/pseuds/welcometothesinbin
Summary: And this is the place where I share them with you.Each chapter is its own story and has its own set of warnings/kinks. Chapters are not connected unless specifically stated.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. you've heard of cuntboys, now get ready for

**Author's Note:**

> you can ask me questions/send me prompts at androgyne.bdsmlr.com. 😘

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're jealous of your friends and their tits. Mommy has a solution.  
> (warnings/kinks: Mommy kink, ageplay/underage (it's left ambiguous), drugs/aphrodisiac, D/s & subspace, feminization/genderplay, neglect play.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted to my bdsmlr, edited and extended here.  
> I envision the narrator to be a cis male who likes using female pronouns for kink reasons, but i tried to leave it ambiguous enough that you can read it as whatever gender/sex you want.

It's not _fair._ All your girlfriends have been blessed by puberty and you're still flat as a board. It's not like you want bimbo-boobs, you just want to look like a girl, all pretty and soft and gently-curved. 

Mommy tells you not to worry, she can help. She brings home this weird machine and sets it up in the basement, makes you sit in a padded chair and then gently straps your wrists and ankles to it. "It's for your safety, baby," she says when you protest, stroking your hair. "It's to make sure my silly little girl doesn't hurt herself." You calm down. You _are_ silly; that's why Mommy has to make decisions for you. You don't struggle when Mommy fixes two translucent domes onto your chest - your little twitch when she pinches your nipple doesn't count, you didn't mean to. 

She brings you a bottle and tells you to drink. It's sweet and thick and you're thankful when she gives you water afterward. The sweetness coats your tongue and spreads through your chest and tummy, making you all hot and squirmy. She gives you your favorite gag, the one shaped like a dick, slipping it down your throat and buckling it behind your head. Your throat squeezes instinctively around it and the sensation makes your clitty jerk.

You're already drifting, so you don't notice when Mommy goes over to fiddle with the machine. You only notice the weird tugging feeling on your chest.

You make an inquiring noise in your throat, then another, more alarmed, as your nipples start to tingle in a not entirely pleasant way.

Mommy pats your tummy. "Don't worry, baby. You want tits, don't you? A pretty little pair of tits on my pretty little girl?"

You nod as best you can, shivering a bit. It still feels weird, but not bad. You suck harder on the gag and wriggle, soothing yourself with the firmness of the silicone in your mouth and the bonds holding you still.

"Relax and let the machine do its job." She stands up, plants a kiss on your forehead, and walks over to the lightswitch. You whine deep in your throat - you don't want her to go! 

"Shush, baby," she says, and turns out the lights as she leaves.

You wriggle harder in your chair. You want Mommy's nails digging into your nipples as she tugs, the sharp touch of her teeth as she sucks, her attention all on you as she strings your body along. A whine builds in your chest, interrupted by a gasp through your nose -- the machine's suction is suddenly stronger. Your back arches on instinct, pushing your nipples into the harsh grip to alleviate the pull, but the machine doesn't slow down. It doesn't care for your comfort, for your preferences, for your agreement. It doesn't care about you.

There's a burst of renewed heat in your fluttering tummy. You arch your back away, experimentally, and after only a moment you return to your former position. It goes from intriguingly strange to _hurting_ if you pull away from it, and Mommy isn't here to balance the hurt with anything else. 

You try to settle, sucking hard on the gag in your throat, feet twisting helplessly. Mommy wants to help you. The machine's going to help you. You just have to let go of your silliness and be her good little girl.

The heat gathers at your core and in your chest, blood rushing to both areas. You can't see much with the lights off but you can imagine your nipples turning a bruised red as they're pulled relentlessly up and away from your chest. The longer you sit here, the sweetness of the drink Mommy gave you still lingering on your tongue and the desire to _be good_ spreading a soothing haze through your mind, the more you begin to like this. It's not Mommy's hands, but it's Mommy's tools, it's Mommy's will. You asked her to help you and she is. She's going to make you her good, pretty girl with the machine. You don't have to worry about how it will turn out; Mommy knows what she's doing.

Time slips by, blurred by the sweet taste in your mouth, the relentless suction on your chest, the throbbing between your legs. You sit, twitching and gasping and dripping in the chair, eyes barely open, lost in the sheer sensation of it all.

You jump when the lights come on. The movement yanks at the suction cups, sending bolts of pain through your chest and making you shriek. It doesn't make you any less aroused, though.

"Oh, baby girl," Mommy says, stepping into the room. "Look at you." She wipes at your cheeks and you realize you've been crying. You blink and blink again, hazy, drooling as she pulls the gag from your slack mouth. You're buzzing all over, sensation running from your nipples through your nervous system to the tips of your toes and the pit of your stomach. Everywhere she touches feels tingly and hot, like she's shedding static electricity from her fingers. You try to speak and just groan, listing toward her, exhausted and thirsty and wrung-out.

She shushes you and presses you back against the chair. "The cups first, baby girl, don't want you to fall out of the chair with those on." They come off with loud pops. You arch up with a yelp that trails off into a hitching whine as her cool palms soothe your hot, sore chest.

"Oh, look at that," she says. You crane your head down but all you really see is the circles of red skin around your nipples. They look puffy, but the flesh underneath hasn't perked up any. You lean forward, letting her bear your weight as she undoes the restraints.

"My good girl," she says. "You're doing so well, baby. I know it's not fun at first but you'll like it soon."

You scrape together the energy to raise your head. _At first? Soon?_

She looks at your confused face and giggles. "Oh, my sweet silly little girl," she says, in that special tone that makes you squirm, "did you think this was a one-time treatment? Honey, we'll be doing this for days at least."

Your sore nipples rub against her shirt. You moan, low in your throat, and pretend you're not stiff with excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment if you want a continuation, because this is a kink i'm always down to write.


	2. the risks of after-dark exercise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're taking a jog late at night and run into trouble.  
> (warnings/kinks: rape, forced orgasm, multiple orgasms, erotic asphyxiation/choking.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cross-posted to my bdsmlr, @androgyne.

You're a cute little thing heading out on a jog at night, taking advantage of the cooler temperatures. You've passed a few others with the same idea so you don't think much of the footsteps growing louder and closer behind you until someone grabs your shirt and yanks you off the path. Before you can get your wits together there's a hand around your throat, keeping your breathing short and shallow, and an arm around your waist pinning you against a firm, muscled body. 

You fight but you're not strong enough to escape his grip. He drags you further into the woods, one hand wandering up and down your front to squeeze one breast or tease at the waistband of your shorts. You tell yourself the shivery heat between your legs is the endorphins of exercise mixing with the adrenaline running through your system.

He throws you down into the leaves and settles on top of you. He pulls your shirt up and tangles it around your wrists, using the same trick to restrain your ankles. When you struggle he squeezes your throat until you're too desperate for air to do anything but surrender. He yanks your panties only a little way down your thighs before he gets distracted by your pussy.

He taunts you for how flushed your cunt is, doesn't let you even try to explain that running makes you excited. He plays with your clit, stopping to let you drag in the occasional deep breath. The oxygen deprivation heightens the pleasure until your fear and anger aren't enough to keep you from going stiff and cumming, his grip tight around your neck. He calls you a good girl and keeps going, pinching and tugging and rubbing. The leaves under your ass grow wet and sticky. Your vision is clouded at the edges and obscured with fireworks as he forces orgasm after orgasm from your sore clit and aching pussy. You lose count of how many times you've peaked, your brain starved of oxygen and your cunt constantly throbbing. You can feel how loose your hole is, leaking and twitching with pleasure. He fits three fingers inside you easily, pushing another orgasm from your exhausted body. You whimper when he finally lets go of your red, irritated clit, too far gone to sound anything other than desperate.

He fucks you in slow, long strokes, not quite enough to make you come but enough to leave you always on the edge. You clench down around him almost as tight as he squeezes your throat with each push in. With every movement of his cock he's stirring up the juices staining your thighs and slicking your cunt, making a sticky froth around your entrance and along his shaft. You want to cum, you want to touch your sore clit, but you can't think clearly enough to wriggle free of the cloth holding your arms together.

You whine, wasting your precious air, and arch your body toward him. He bites out a curse and shoves hard, hilting himself in your body. He cums inside you, scorching hot against your cervix, and you could cry for how good it is.

He pulls out and tucks himself back in, looking down at you. You don't know how you look and you don't have the wherewithal to care; you just want to fall off the edge one more time.

"Good girl," he says, and slaps your stiff clit.

You let out a gurgling wail and cum.


End file.
